Page 152 of Trick

We made it to Jinny’s cottage. Poor Nicu had passed out during the ride, caught between chattering and crying himself into exhaustion.

The older woman nearly collapsed when she saw us. I didn’t tell her what had happened with Poet, but from the way Jinny shrank into her chair by the fire, she knew. I promised everything would be all right but didn’t blame her for not believing the lie.

On the way back to court, foreboding curdled in my gut. Poet might need help, but he could be anywhere. And if he’d taken cover, I might foil his plans or give him away.

But what if he was injured?

As my ride galloped back the way we came, my gaze landed on something flashing in a cradle of wildflowers. I jerked on the reins, stopping the horse and taking a closer look at the object.

A blade flashed through the lacing of flora. Poet had lost that weapon while fighting the leenix.

I jumped off the horse and stalked toward the object. Sinking to my knees, I picked it up and hesitated. Although I still harnessed the dagger Poet had given me, fate may have led me to this second weapon, to say I should go after him. Either that, or providence lured me here for another reason.

I glanced absently at a neighboring tree with exposed roots thatched in moss and braided into knots giant enough for a child to duck behind. A twelve-year-old girl who’d run away from her father on a stormy night. A memory so fresh that it might have happened yesterday.

My memory. My mistake.

I knew those roots. I hadn’t recognized them the last time I was here, when the leenix wounded me, but I recognized them now.

I swayed on my knees and choked the blade. I gaped at my surroundings, at the place where my father died, the life bleeding from his face and changing me forever.

I stared at every detail. I stared and stared.

Just stared.

Just. Stared.

Something in my periphery whizzed through the air and pinched the side of my neck. The moss blurred, the forest tilted, and my eyelids dropped. And I stopped staring.

35

Briar

They dragged me before the court and shoved me to my knees. I blinked, woozy from the dart the knight had shot me with. Tall candelabras illuminated the stained glass windows in the throne room. The bonds at my wrists chafed.

Basil and Fatima stood on the dais, their faces tight with disbelief as they stared at me. They made a spectacle of this moment. Courtiers surrounded me, including the Seven, their faces bright with shock.

Even Eliot was here, his profile wrung out like a towel and his skin as green as celery. At least they hadn’t apprehended him, too.

The guards Poet and I had battled stood in the foreground, bedraggled, bruised, bleeding, and bristling—but alive. That much was a relief. The one missing an ear managed to stay upright, and my rock hadn’t vanquished the other male currently fuming from the sideline.

The Royals arranged themselves in a semicircle. My mother’s eyes flashed with dismay, yet she ignored my pleading glance. She would not speak up for me. I had disgraced myself and dishonored her. I’d insulted Spring.

I was not sorry. I think they saw that from the lift of my shoulders and the dignified expression I mustered.

“Princess Briar,” Basil lectured, his velvet mantle swishing around his feet. “Not for a century has a Royal passed judgment on another Royal. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but you’ve been accused of stealing the rightful property of Spring, of accosting the guards, and I can’t begin to list the rest. What in Seasons got into you? Don’t answer that yet,” he said, turning to his wife. “Dearest, do help me. I’ve a headache.”

“Your horse and mantle fit the thief’s description,” Fatima said, her crown glinting like a set of spikes and the fringed hem of her olive silk dress scraping the floor. “The dagger found in your hand, as well as the one in your belt, match the design of the ones used on the guards. What’s more, your recent behavior has been noted by many.”

People had seen. The day I’d fled the dungeon and raced through the halls like an apparition had been on my tail, the court had witnessed it.

Reluctantly, Posy, Vale, and Cadence confirmed that I had initially been wandering the corridors on the night we crossed paths. Because this was out of character for me, the Royals interpreted it as potentially malicious. Under duress, the ladies verified how I’d taken part in the escapade to the labyrinth, another example of my change in behavior.

Residents had observed me slink here and there, sometimes to the library, which accounted for the one time I’d felt someone trailing me. I hadn’t been paranoid, after all. Members of the court had taken to watching me whenever I caught their attention.

But most times, I’d crept to the artist wing—to Poet. A few people had noticed my presence in that area as well, despite my having used the secret passage from my suite.

During the Peace Talks, I’d failed to compose myself and had suggested born souls be treated better. I got into a fight with the Court Jester.

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